Chapter 2 - I am a tax genius

Glorfindel almost spit out his tea the moment Lord Elrond casually mentioned about Saruman coming to visit Rivendell.

Saruman being the White Wizard, while Gandalf being the Grey Wizard, were going to come together to Rivendell in order to attend the meeting about restoring the glory of the Fangorn Forest.

The Fangorn Forest that the past Saruman destroyed for the sake of building an army for Sauron. Even without Sauron's influence in the world, Fangorn Forest seemed to be dying; the Ents were now falling asleep, at the edge of forever lost in slumber.

The first time he stood eye to eye with Saruman again, the elf warrior with the golden hair thought that he had lost his damn mind, and that he was ready to pull his sword to behead the traitor. But he was glad he didn’t act before a careful thought.

Whatever Mila did that fateful night after he took her place in her stead in the limbo, she managed to help rewrite the destiny of Arda and everyone in it. He didn’t know how, but he knew that the blessing of vala was with her.

For example, Aragorn was never a ranger. He was born and bred a crown prince and became king. The fellowship was never established, thus Gandalf the Grey never died and never ascend as the White Wizard.

The current White Wizard, Saruman, though with much hate at first meeting again, Glorfindel realized, was never defiled by forces of darkness. He remained a wise and good hearted wizard–the one that even Gandalf looked up to for counsel.

The meeting took place at the courtyard of Rivendell, bathed in moonlight. As they were in the middle of discussing the fading life essence of Fangorn Forest, Glorfindel heard her coming.

He would always knew her footsteps anywhere just by hearing them, and every time he couldn’t stop being thankful that his little friend was alive.

“Ah, Saruman. Gandalf. Let me introduce you to Mila, my guest,” introduced Lord Elrond as Mila came with a beam, bearing a pot of tea in her hand.

“Hello,” Mila smiled.

Glorfindel still couldn’t believe his eyes; how sincere and light was Saruman’s gaze as he greeted Mila, who was once a threat to his despicable plan. Despite the rewritten reality, Glorfindel's protective instinct for Mila remained. He watched both her and the White Wizard.

“Would you like some tea?” she offered.

“Ahh some tea would be great!” accepted Gandalf with cheery, old voice, thanking Mila. “Very kind lady!”

Glorfindel had a theory why he remembered everything while others didn’t. Whatever grace that turned back the time of the world and affected the people in it, somehow didn’t affect him, because he was trapped in a limbo, a void between life and death.

Mila beamed.

If only Mila knew who Saruman was and what evil he did to them–to her– a lifetime ago.

Despite the courteous smile on the mortal woman’s face, there was tremor in her hand as she poured the tea on the cups. This didn’t escape the elf warrior's watchful eyes, nor Saruman.

“Is everything alright, young lady?” asked the White Wizard.

Mila smiled and nodded, but Glorfindel noticed that it didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s this juice fast I’m on,” Mila said nonchalantly to Saruman, “Gives me the shakes. Please enjoy.”

For a moment Glorfindel began to question the calm in her voice as he watched her walk away from the courtyard. Something didn’t feel right. He tried to shake the feeling off but curiosity got the best of him. It would indeed perceived by others to be rude; but he had to excuse himself from the council meeting.

He needed to find Mila and make sure she was well.

***

The tea pot in her hands felt heavier and heavier with every step that Mila took. The empty pot eventually slipped from her trembling fingers on to the ground. Her legs felt weak and her knees buckled. Her heart pounded inside her chest; fear threatening to burst inside her, and the world seemed darker and towering heavily against her, while she grew smaller.

Suffocating.

The beautiful elvish teapot that hit the floor shattered upon impact. Mila's heart went up to her throat as she dropped on her knees, trying to pick up the pieces. Secretly she hoped that Lord Elrond’s antique teapot was not as expensive, like perhaps, the Ming Dynasty teapot from her world…

What a shame.

“Don’t touch it, Mila.”

Unfortunately, as soon as the melodic voice entered her ears, she felt a sharp pain on the tips of her shaking fingers. Oddly, the pain distract her enough from the memory of Saruman.

It felt almost… good.

A big, alabaster hand cupped her small one. That familiar warmth engulfed her, and when her eyes met his, she felt her heart skipped a beat.

“Mila?”

***

“Mila?”

That voice began to wake her from the illusion that Saruman had trapped her in; the infinite limbo where she replayed her worst guilt over and over again.

A strong yet gentle hand engulfed her cold hands in his warm one.

“This is not real. Saruman has played you. I beg you, Mila, wake up!”

Suddenly, she had the strength to look away from her dark past, and that azure blue eyes seemed to light up the dark emptiness around her.

“Glorfindel?”

His relieved smile began to sober her up. Mila wondered how Glorfindel made it to her hometown on earth.

“No, Mila. This is not real,” he said with an urgency in his angelic voice. “Saruman tricked you into this. Follow me, and I will show you a way out,” he pointed at a small light that broke through the shadow. The light seemed to appear out of nowhere. Had he not pointed it at her, she would’ve never find it.

“Come on. Go. Follow the light,” he nudged before the balrog slayer's comforting hand departed from hers.

“You’re not coming?”

His wistful smile seemed eerily like goodbye. “A soul for a soul,” he murmured, cupping the mortal woman’s cheek gently. “One soul enters here. One must stay. We cannot both leave this place, so I shall take your place.”

“Wait… what?”

“You are our only hope, Mila. The valar is with you. You must go out there and help us stop Saruman before it’s too late.”

Mila grabbed Glorfindel’s middle, gripping tightly; her voice shook with fear. “No! Not without you!”

“I did give my oath to protect you. Your life worth more than anything, more than my own.”

Mila remembered how she got here. The evil wizard tricked her. She fell into an abyss; cursed to relive her worst moments for eternity. If Glorfindel stayed…

“I-I…” Mila’s tears began to leak from her eyes, “Y-you don’t deserve–“

“I care about you more than you think, little one,” the elf warrior with golden hair said with much fondness and an emotion she couldn’t put her hands on. “I’ll give my life a thousand times over for you.”

“Not like this,” Mila began to sob, her shoulders wracked with guilt and despair, “No. I can’t do this without you. I’m not strong enough. I need you.”

“You have more strength than you realized. You do not need me. Lady Galadriel stands alone. She needs you. You’re the only one who can do this.”

Glorfindel leaned down and placed a kiss on top of Mila’s forehead.

“I will always keep you in my heart.”

All of a sudden, Glorfindel pried her arms away from him and pushed her towards the light, and Mila’s desperate cry rang in the emptiness of the limbo for the last time.

***

“Mila?”

If there was anything she regretted more than anything–perhaps more than she regretted the day she fell in love with Legolas–was that night when she left Glorfindel alone in that limbo.

To have him again in such a close proximity made Mila tremble, knowing that no matter how strong, no one could control who lives, who dies, or who stays in between. Mila wanted to cry and hug the tall elf with beautiful golden locks; to never let go of him again, but she held herself back.

Glorfindel better off not knowing her. Just like Legolas.

“I’m sorry,” her voice came out surprisingly even; forcing a smile, “I will clean this up–“

“–No. Let someone else do it,” cut the balrog slayer. Even as he crouched before her to meet her eye level, he was still much taller compared to her, “You are hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” Mila reluctantly took her hands away from his comforting grasp and looked away. In this reality, she didn’t know him much except by his name and his stellar reputation. He never needed to associate with her; and it was best to leave it as it was. “I need to go–“

“No. You are not alright," Glorfindel insisted, his eyes studying her before adding, "You’re shaking,” he pointed out with worry latched in his melodious voice, “Please allow me to help you.”

Mila had no choice but let him nurse the wound at the tips of her fingers. Silently the golden warrior lamented at the way his friend treated him like a stranger. In that moment, while grasping her fragile hand in his, he made up his mind that even in this reality, he too would win her friendship.

He wanted her back in his life.

From afar, Lady Erussiel watched the closeness between the human mortal and the elf warrior that she desired. Her fist tightened as her eyes burned with jealousy at the sight.

***

“…this must be a test,” Elladan grumbled, looking annoyed. “How come I’m the only one who has to come up with a solution for our tax situation while you’re just sitting there, eating like a pig?”

Elrohir shrugged as he munched on his lembas bread, “That’s because you’re older than me by three minutes and fifteen seconds,” Elrohir said with much teasing to his twin before laughing merrily to himself. “Besides, today and tomorrow is my day off. I can’t help you.”

“Funny. You were usually never that happy about the fact that you are younger than Dan.”

The angelic voice made Mila look up from the twins to Glorfindel who pulled a chair to sit next to Elladan at the long table in the dining hall. Glorfindel azure blue eyes met with Mila’s brown eyes. “Lady Mila. I hope my twin nephews do not bother you too much. How is your hand?”

Mila smiled at Glorfindel politely. “They’re behaving well this morning, as usual.” Ro and Dan scoffed. Both young lords had an exact grin on their faces, knowing that Mila’s words meant the exact opposite. “My fingers are better now. Thanks to you, Lord Glorfindel.”

“’Lord Glorfindel’ huh?” teased Elladan.

“You never called us Lord anymore,” butted Elrohir.

Mila frowned. “Didn’t you ask me not to call you both Lords anymore because that makes you feel old?” Mila asked with an innocent face, though the twins knew well the lady was teasing them.

Glorfindel let out a chuckle. “Should I feel old?”

Mila suddenly blushed in embarrassment. “N-no, that’s not what I meant–“

“In her defense you are much, much much much much older than her great grand father,” muttered Elrohir dramatically, making Elladan laughed.

Glorfindel felt sorry that his teasing remark had caused discomfort to the little woman and an opening for the twins of Rivendell to tease her further, so he waved his hand with a chuckle.

“We’ve met several times now. I think you can call me just by my name,” he said to Mila.

The twins, whilst having a good time that morning, had seen how the eyes of the legendary elf warrior seemed to soften at their little mortal friend.

Are you thinking what I’m thinking?

…Is that even possible? I mean Mila is little and cute, but look at the way he smile.

Both twins was chewing their bread nonchalantly, communicating secretly through their twins bond while observing the exchange between the golden one and the mortal woman.

“Alright. Then you can just call me Mila.”

We must investigate this further.

Check this out, the fox of Rivendell is headed this way.

Quick! Pretend to be busy!

“So the tax situation,” Elrohir, who earlier had no intention to help his brother regarding the duty, quickly delved into the topic, “We need to come up with a better solution to avoid conflict in the village.”

“There has been tension lately between the commoner and the… Oh! Lady Erussiel,” Elladan strained a smile at the beautiful, red haired elleth who visited their table.

“Lord Elladan and Lord Elrohir,” she greeted sweetly, then turned to Glorfindel with a blush on her cheek, “Lord Glorfindel. How lovely to meet you all.”

Mila felt invisible. She knew she was surrounded by her friends, but to the outside, she must look like a sore thumb–not when all her friends look like a model in every girl’s wet dream. Meanwhile, she was short, human and rather plump compared to elves who naturally possess great genes.

The thought made her cringe.

“And who is this?” asked Erussiel about Mila.

“This is Mila, our friend,” Glorfindel introduced, glancing at Mila, granting her a bright smile.

“Oh. I think we’ve met before. You are the servant for the lords of Rivendell, aren’t you?”

Elladan and Elrohir read the mockery behind Lady Erussiel's fake friendliness, but before any of them could defend Mila, the mortal girl nodded with a bright smile.

Is all human girl as naive as her?

Give them more time together, and Erussiel shall eat her alive.

I think Mila doesn't know that not all elves are good.

“Oh, you know me!” beamed Mila. “I’m sorry that I don’t remember you, my lady. I should have known, you are hard to miss. You have very beautiful hair,” complimented Mila with a slight look of awe on her expression.

Too good for her own good.

I pray that the clueless little woman doesn't cross path with the fox again.

Erussiel smiled bashfully. “You’re too kind. It’s an honor meeting you, Mila. I’m Erussiel,” the elleth curtsied, her movement graceful, even for an elf.

Mila bowed her head awkwardly; there was no way she could match that angelic curtsy. “The honor is mine, my lady.”

Erussiel kept her expression, before turning her eyes again to Glorfindel.

“I was wondering if you are busy this afternoon? Maybe we can go for a walk?”

Mila observed how the twins had fallen uncharacteristically silent; their faces unreadable.

“Ah,” Glorfindel gave Elladan and Elrohir a meaningful look before turning to Erussiel again. “You must forgive me. I’m afraid today, I and the lords of Rivendell are going to be occupied. There are matters at the village we need to see to.”

“The tax problem,” Elladan added with small frown, “I’m afraid it’s all hands on deck.”

Erussiel’s pretty face looked crestfallen. “What about dinner?”

“This will take all day, I’m afraid,” Elrohir commented with a sorry look on his face as he placed a hand on Glorfindel’s shoulder, “And we need Glorfindel’s counsel now more than anything.”

Erussiel didn’t seem to notice, like Mila, how the three ellyn had made up excuses to refuse her.

“What about tomorrow?”

Glorfindel was at loss; his azure blue eyes seemed almost desperate.

“Tomorrow we are going hunting for a few days,” Elrohir answered.

“I thought tomorrow is your –“

Elrohir tugged on Mila’s leg under the table with his boot, effectively silencing her.

Follow my lead, Mila read from Elrohir’s expression.

“That is too bad.”

“My apologies, Lady Erussiel,” said Glorfindel with a sorry smile.

“Maybe next time then?”

“Of course.”

As the elleth left, three ellyn in front of Mila were silent, and Mila saw Glorfindel clapped Elladan’s back as if in thank you.

“There’s a pretty elleth wanted to spend time with you. An extremely beautiful elleth with very gorgeous hair,” Mila remarked, looking at the three ellyn as if they were crazy. Then she looked at Glorfindel. “You are missing out.”

Glorfindel chuckled. “It is very flattering, Mila. But we are just friends. Besides, the tax problem is becoming quite a pressing matter. Winter is approaching, and we need to have a better tax regulation established before then. I am sure Elladan will appreciate more heads in the matter.”

“Thank you, uncle,” Elladan chirped.

Mila turned to Elrohir. “I thought you said you want to spend these two days off relaxing.”

“I want to help my brother. He needs me more," Elrohir said with a feigned seriousness.

Mila watched as both split image of the lords of Rivendell nodded and looked away whilst drinking their morning tea. Glorfindel too followed suit and turned to his tea, stirring it. It was odd…

“I never knew how the tax works here. Must be a very complicated thing,” Mila shrugged, choosing to let go the fact that Glorfindel was avoiding spending time with an extremely beautiful elleth.

Elladan sighed. “Taxes are established earlier in Rivendell just enough to keep the land running. It began as a voluntary tribute to the House of Rivendell, as a token of gratitude from the people who received our protection and sanctuary. But as time goes by, our small settlement grow in number, hence now we have a village that rapidly grows under the protection of our adar. Tax is becoming a necessity to keep everything running,” explained Elladan.

Mila nodded. “Of course.”

“So we regulate tax in a form of income percentage that our people must pay. Of course, we cannot apply taxes to commoners who barely makes enough to feed their family. But to those deemed well off, they are obligated to pay tax every month.”

“Now in general there are two kinds of people living in Rivendell. The commoner and the nobility,” Glorfindel explained, “As our civilization grows, fund from our tax become essential. Lately, there are rumors that began to spread that the House of Rivendell is applying taxes unevenly to the people, creating tension between the nobility and the commoner. The nobility thinks that it is unfair that taxes are applied to them while the commoners live on the taxes they pay.”

As he took a bite of his cake, Elrohir summarized, “Cost for upkeep is growing. If we tax the commoners, the ones who are poor won’t have enough for their households. If we pushed the nobility and the rich for more taxes, tension will continue to grow. It’s a dilemma.”

Elladan’s frown cut deeper on his forehead. “…And I’m supposed to come up with a report for this dilemma this evening and report to my adar.”

Elladan dropped his head on his plate, while Elrohir patted his brother’s back in sympathy, making Glorfindel chuckle.

Mila giggled. Despite being the young lords of Rivendell, Elladan and Elrohir still behaved like teenagers sometimes. Glorfindel’s smile grew brighter as he saw Mila’s amusement.

“Poor Elladan,” cooed Mila as she stood up and gathered her plate, “I’m sure you can find something that works for both parties.”

“What do you think, Mila? Any suggestions for these clueless lords of Rivendell?” Glorfindel teased his nephews, while at the same time baiting Mila, who he knew was much brighter than she let on.

Mila shrugged, pausing for a bit. “What about progressive tax? I don’t know.”

As Mila scratched her head and began to walk away, Elladan lift up his head and thought for a minute. “Hold up.”

Mila stopped in her tracks. “I’m going to the village to retrieve your new clothes from the seamstress. Do you need anything else while I’m going there?” asked Mila dutifully.

“Explain more about the progressive tax to us,” Glorfindel said, voicing the twins thoughts.

“Basically a progressive but proportional tax percentage based on income level.”

Glorfindel leaned back on his chair and folded his arms. “Go on, little one,” he smiled.

Little one. That nickname sent warmth down Mila’s heart–the way Glorfindel called her like the way he used to be in their journey a lifetime ago.

Mila sat down back, then dipped a spoon into a bowl of blueberry jam, using the table as if it was a paper and drew a graph on it.

“What is this?” asked Elrohir, confused.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean them up later,” replied Mila as she smeared the dark purple condiment on the table. “This horizontal line represents income level. The vertical line represents the amount of tax percentage level. The further the line goes, the higher the level.”

The ellyn watched with amazement as Mila drew several dots on the graph.

“Say, you earn a small level income. That means you pay a small level tax. But if you earn big income–“

“–The bigger tax percentage you pay,” Elladan finished with awe.

The twins regarded Mila in a new light. They didn’t know that their little friend received formal education before.

“You study math?” Glorfindel asked, despite knowing the answer.

“Briefly,” Mila answered curtly, not sure how to explain about her coming from a different world to these elves.

“But how do we measure income levels? How do we categorize it?”

“We can do statistics for starter. From there we categorize the percentage level. Then every tax collection we ask people to submit their financial report.”

“And if someone decide to lie to reduce the tax?”

“We can establish a regulation that say that we can send an auditor to do a thorough search in case of suspicion.”

“… And do random audits to keep people honest. Especially to the nobilities,” added Glorfindel, "Shrewd as some of them are."

“Set a rule that manipulating taxes could result in penalty,” butted Elladan. Then his smile grew bigger as he looked at Mila. “Mila, you are smarter than you let on!”

“Are you saying I look stupid all this time?” Mila frowned.

“What? No,” Elladan and Elrohir said in unison. “We’re just saying you’re wasting your talent being our servant."

"But we do love your honey cake."

Elrohir pinched Mila’s cheek in jest and Mila had to hit his hand, giving him an annoyed look as the twins cackled.

After their teasing ceased, Mila clapped her hands and grinned. “Problem solved then! All you need to do is just make that report. That means Glorfindel can have a free time this afternoon for that walk with Lady Erussiel!”

Glorfindel’s neat brows slightly lifted in discomfort. “Ah, that…”

This time, no help came from the twins as they both discussed more about the progressive tax scenario.

“She is very pretty and delicate. I think she fancies you, Glorfindel,” Mila beamed, inwardly shipping them.

Glorfindel saw how Mila seemed giddy at the thought of him and the lady that he secretly disliked, reveling at how naive, yet sincere Mila remained despite what she had been through.

“I don’t think that,” the handsome elf answered, looking somewhat embarrassed when he continued, “Besides, that chance has passed. I think today I shall spend my time looking at a flower that I haven’t seen in a long time," he said the latter with a wistful expression as he gazed at Mila's face.

“Oh, you like flowers? Yes. I heard the flowers in the garden are blooming this week. You should see them before winter approaches. If you want, I can pick some for you. I’ll have a fresh bouquet sent to your room.”

Glorfindel smiled softly as he regarded the flower that stood before him. “I don’t like to pick them. I just like to look at it,” he said gently while keeping his eyes at Mila.

Elrohir cleared his throat. “Are we still talking about flowers?”

That remark sobered Glorfindel. “Not anymore,” he answered Elrohir with a look before turning to Mila with a charming smile, “Nevertheless, thank you for your offer.”

“No problem,” beamed Mila. “Just let me know if you change your mind.”

***

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